


turned malice

by Zerrat



Category: Final Fantasy Type-0
Genre: Blatant Misuse of Gameplay Mechanics, F/F, Fuckbuddies, Mid-Canon, Seven doesn't really know what they are, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-17
Updated: 2015-06-17
Packaged: 2018-04-04 19:53:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4150776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zerrat/pseuds/Zerrat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Humans weren't built to bear the hatred of a thousand enemies, and sometimes Sice needs a little help in blowing off the steam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	turned malice

Seven's ears were still ringing from the sound of gunfire, bright sparks dancing dizzily before her eyes. For a terrifying moment, the taste of blood on her tongue was her only link to reality, Mother's healing magic working overtime to knit together flesh and bone, the imperial trooper's heavy footsteps impossibly loud in her ears. She shook her head, her vision still spinning and swirling, pressing her palm heel to her bloodied temple. Despite the pain, she was more irritated with herself than truly afraid for her life. 

The fact she's been caught unaware by a foot soldier was more concerning than the resulting minor inconvenience. Moglin's voice had just been a constant in her ear, telling her how close the documents, and then -

Well. She had to be honest, even with herself. Truth of the matter was, she'd been more distracted by her company on the mission, and that had been more than enough to throw her off her game. Her thoughts had circled, constant wonderings of _what if_ and _maybe_ , deadly heat rising in the pit of her stomach. There really was no other way to explain it, no excuse she could offer. 

Now, she paid for it with her pride. 

"Did you kill them?" the trooper was rasping, and even half-blind from the bloodied hair in her eyes, Seven could see the way the gun in his hands trembled, hear the terror in his voice against the quiet of the research laboratory. 

Seven didn't bother replying, saving her breath in favour of wiping the blood from her eyes. Elsewhere in the base, Seven could hear the sound of gunfire as the other team engaged the remaining imperial forces.

She exhaled sharply, blinking slowly. If the rest of the imperial occupying force was still alive, it wouldn't be for long. 

The trooper seemed to know it, flinching violently when an explosion rocked the ground elsewhere in the facility, the force of the quakes sending the floor to shivering beneath Seven's knees. He snarled, helpless, enraged and _desperate_ like a cornered animal, but the moment Seven reached out for her whip-blade he jerked back to awareness. 

His breath came harsh, hard and sobbing from behind his mask, and even though she couldn't see his eyes, Seven couldn't shake the feeling they hadn't strayed from her a moment. 

_Kill or be killed._ She closed her eyes for just a moment, her stomach contracting in on itself. Unlike some of her classmates, she hardly needed to enjoy such a realisation to recognise its truth. 

"Everyone is _gone_ ," he managed, and Seven wondered if she only imagined him swallow loudly. She said nothing, silent as she watched him shake his head, slowly at first, and then more violently. Lost in his own pain, in the threat Seven herself still posed, he continued, "All of them, thanks to you red demons! Am I... the only one left?"

"Oh, you'd better bet you are - at least by now," Sice said, her voice coming like a challenge from just beyond him. The trooper barely had time to turn his head, a curse on his lips and sheer terror screaming from his every fibre, before Sice sent the wickedly curved blade of her scythe cracking right through his sternum.

No matter her mild relieve, Seven winced, looking away from the trooper's blank mask and instead meeting Sice's eyes over his shoulder. 

"What a bunch of losers. Tell me, Seven - did you fall asleep mid-mission, or were you feeling a little _damsel in distress_ today?" Sice asked with a laugh, the sound of it dark and delighted, keeping her kill upright with just the slanted length of her weapon. Her blue gaze cut down to Seven then, her expression more a rabid snarl than a smile. "Don't stop to thank me. It'll just be a pain in the ass for me if you get yourself killed _now_."

Unwilling to disclose the 'how' or 'why' of her distraction, Seven merely nodded, climbing her to feet unaided and dabbing at her temple. Mother's magic had closed the skin already, leaving the blood to dry on her skin. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a shock of dark electricity crackle down the length of the blade jutting from the soldier's flesh, before its wielder twisted it sharply, ripping it upwards. The sheer violence of the movement took the soldier's arm clean from his shoulder, decorating the glass display cabinet behind him with an arc of arterial blood. 

Beyond him, Sice laughed again, spinning her scythe back over her shoulder, the deep red flame of it now enough to wash the laboratory's dim interior with its light - the physical manifestation of malice. It bled from her, red tendrils of light swirling beneath the skin of her hands and across her knuckles, her breath coming harsh and heavy as though she'd run from Akademia through to Iscah.

Forget being merely _distracted_ by her company - the sight of her here, now, was enough to leave Seven's mouth parched, her pulse spiking with far more than simple adrenaline. She wavered for a moment, caught fast between her mission and the sharp tug of desire deep in her stomach, but eventually her sense of duty to Mother won out.

Reluctantly, Seven turned her gaze away from Sice, stepping over the soldier's still twitching body, her mind flickering through the instructions Mother had briefed them with back in Sorcery. 

The cabinet's glass was warded against the garden variety of brute force that any occupying force would have employed to obtain the delicate research instruments on display inside, but the lock... Seven sighed. Really, Mother needed to get her researchers to step up their security. 

With a snap of ice magic, Seven froze the lock on the cabinet, before sending the butt of her whip-blade hard against the super-cooled metal. It shattered, the remains littering the ground at her feet and rolling off into the darkness. Unimpeded, Seven slid the doors open, giving the contents a quick once-over, but no matter how business-like she approached her task, her senses still caught on the click of Sice's heels as she paced the lab behind her, the almost physical force of her gaze across Seven's shoulders. 

Sice was no more patient than an untrained Militesi coerl - and just like the rest of Class Zero, she was far more dangerous. 

Seven cleared her throat, her stomach fluttering strangely, determined to keep her mind on-task. 

Inside the cabinet, nothing looked out of place. Mother had been correct - while Milites had taken the facility, it had been more that they'd stumbled on it in the Iscah forests, occupying it more from sheer luck than by design. They probably hadn't even realised the sort of bargaining chip they'd secured. 

Phantoma really was the jewel in the crown of Sorcery's current research projects - if the empire had even an inkling, far more than a skeleton force would have remained to ensure the dominion bled for their archsorceress' projects. 

Instead, just a third of Class Zero had been sent to clear out what imperial forces had remained, and it had been more than enough, and but for Seven's distraction, the fight had been far too easy. Seven paused again, glancing behind her for just a moment. Her gaze travelled the rigid set to Sice's shoulders, the white-knuckled grasp on her scythe at her side, the harsh, hungry glow of her weapon. 

Even with her back to Seven, Sice bled frustrated bloodlust.

That in itself was not unusual - with every life Sice reaped, the hatred of the dead was stored in her blade and body, the malice gathering in her _mind_ until it folded in on itself, only growing stronger with every mission. 

Humans were not made to bear such a critical mass of pure loathing, and certainly not for so long - not even someone like Sice. She always did, without so much as a complaint, shouldering the burden as though she'd been born for it. 

For weeks now, Sice had been practically itching for a fight, her tension colouring even Moglin's most lighthearted lectures. Reading her frustration, Seven had suggested this mission as a way of detoxing some of that lingering malice, but with Milites offering little resistance... it hadn't exactly been the challenge for Sice that Seven had hoped for. 

Perhaps they'd be able to do something about it later, Seven decided, watching Sice drum her fingers on the haft of her scythe, watching her pace the length of the lab in fevered, jerky strides. There was always that Class Ninth cadet hanging around the crystarium, constantly offering covert capture or destroy missions running deep in enemy territory. 

Seven would assist her, content to guard Sice's back as she tore into the imperial border patrols, and then maybe, _finally_...

Her face grew hot, even the mere idea of it so attractive her stomach twisted in on itself, the very same potent _distraction_ that had allowed a lowly imperial trooper to catch her unawares. Seven loved the thrill of a fight just as much as the rest of Class Zero, as much as Sice, but in this case...

For her, it was more about the feel of scorching lips on her throat, slick heat beneath her fingers, the drag of nails at the back of her neck in a wordless plea for more. It was about Sice, about sweet release, but of course, it could never be simple. 

It was the inconsistency of their arrangement that did Seven's head in. She could never tell when Sice would lash out or when she'd drag her in, her mouth hard and her fingers dragging at Seven's jacket. When she'd _snap_ , slipping into Seven's room and demanding release from the malice bottled up inside her, when she finally conceded she could no longer expend it all in battle. 

This time, it had been drawn out even longer than the usual. It had become a guessing game Seven found herself constantly playing in missions, in lectures back at Akademia, _waiting_ for Sice to make a move--

A harsh cut of derisive laughter jerked Seven from her thoughts. Flushing hotter and feeling as though she'd just been caught out, Seven refocused in time to see Sice gesture at her, hand and scythe swept wide and demanding. 

"Are you going to stand there gawking like an idiot all day, or do I need to come hold your hand?"

Seven rested her hand on her hip, raising a steady eyebrow as she swept her gaze up and down Sice once more, too frustrated with to bother with the farce of subtlety. "You needn't be so dramatic. It's not often you mind me watching."

"Just find the thing already so we can blow this joint." Sice's lip curled, jabbing her finger at her ear. "You might have all the time in the world, but I'm getting real sick and tired of listening to dumb and dumber yammer on the COMM."'

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind," Seven replied beneath her breath, a reluctant smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Even with enough venom in her tone to fell a behemoth, even when she was maddeningly stubborn, Sice always managed to make Seven want to laugh. It was one of her more... endearing qualities. 

Apparently, a smile hadn't been the response Sice had expected, her scowl only deepening.

"Yeah." Sice threw out the words out after a long moment, her gaze still razor sharp on Seven's, assessing and suspicious. "You _do_ that."

Smile fading, Seven cleared her throat and turned back to her search. The sooner she found the research, the sooner they could leave - and the sooner she could convince Sice to do something about the malice practically bleeding through her skin. 

The document itself was easy enough to find, the papers tucked up the back of a mana extraction drill, hidden away when the empire had stormed the facility. Seven ran her eyes over the front page to confirm, taking in the smattering of paragraphs, tables and equations without truly seeing. 

She didn't particularly understand what all the hushed muttering around Sorcery was about, but if Mother wanted the documents, then who was she to truly question those orders? Satisfied, Seven folded the papers over twice, all business despite the way her mind had wandered, before tucking it into the internal pocket in the breast of her jacket for safe keeping. 

"I have it," Seven told Sice, giving the cabinet's contents one last critical glance, just to be sure, before closing it with a click. "Unless there's something else Mother wishes for us--"

"Nothing from Intel, and from the sounds of the stupid jokes they're cracking, Nine and Jack aren't long on finishing their little errand, too." Sice shook her head, the movement irritable and too fast, her shoulders hunched and tense. Seven watched her drum her fingers on the haft of her scythe, the tempo too jerky to be casual, too desperate.

The crimson flames enveloping the scythe's blade grew brighter, hungrier, and for a moment, Seven could have sworn she saw the same hint of red glow behind Sice's blue eyes. 

This was getting ridiculous. Sighing quietly, Seven remarked, "You seem on edge." 

Sice whirled sharply, bristling at whatever offense she found in such a mild observation. " _You_ seem nosy, so why don't you get bent?"

Seven really didn't know what she expected from Sice, but really. Her jaw tightening and resting her hand on her hip, she said, "I wouldn't need to pry if you weren't so stubborn."

It wasn't as though she didn't _know_ what the malice did to Sice's mind - what it did her body. She'd known for a good year before Operation Apostle, and she'd helped every time she'd been needed! It was impossible to tell Sice that directly, though. Every time, she'd throw up her walls, vindictive and spiteful even when it did nothing but cause herself more pain before she finally capitulated. 

Sice was Sice, and Seven accepted that, but sometimes... she just made it incredibly difficult to help her. 

"Oh, I see how it is." Sice's mouth twisted unhappily, her dark amusement at the carnage evaporating, flash-fire temper sparking as she rounded on Seven. Striding forward, she jabbed two fingers into Seven's collarbone, blue eye furious and blazing. "You know what? I could kick _your_ ass. I bet that'd make me feel good as new." 

Seven swatted Sice's hand away, irritated with the direction the conversation had gone. She was here, she was willing, and Sice just wanted to fight for the sake of it? Seven didn't understand what was wrong with her these days. It had never been a problem until they'd arrived at Akademia. Now, it was out of line?

"In your current state?" Seven asked, her voice flat and weary as she watched Sice lift her chin, trying to minimise even the small difference between them in height. "I really doubt it, Sice."

Sice normally didn't rise to such obvious bait - she was far too intelligent to get too invested in arguments that way, and far too secure in her abilities. But the malice always changed things, warped her control, her priorities, and Seven could practically hear the moment Sice's temper snapped like thread. 

" _Excuse_ me? Are you out of your goddamn mind?" Sice snarled, her teeth bared and furious as she shoved Seven backwards, the red fire seething about her scythe growing hotter even to the naked eye. "I'll tear you to shreds, and you know what? I won't even shed a tear!"

Seven didn't flinch when her back hit the glass cabinet door, hard enough to rattle the contents inside, lips pressed into a flat, disapproving line as Sice pressed the too-hot haft of her scythe hard across her chest, but otherwise, she offered no resistance. The malice gave Sice the edge in strength, speed, and pure unadulterated bloodlust - despite Seven's weary words before, she could admit taking Sice head on was foolhardy at best. 

Instead, she met Sice's gaze, noting the gleam of red flecked in amongst blue, her pupils blown wide, the rapid rise and fall of her chest. 

Seven didn't understand what had changed unspoken arrangement they'd had between them, but she needed to put the pieces together. This was what she excelled at, so why was she running up against walls _now_?

"Don't be absurd, Sice," Seven said after a long moment, twisting her fingers in the clasp of Sice's mantle and jerking her close, just the way that had always caused Sice's breath catch. Pretences always bothered her, Seven could appreciate and accommodate it - so long as the respect went both ways. "Just let me help. It's not a weakness to reach out before you snap and leave yourself no choice!"

"I don't _need_ you," Sice spat, venom practically dripping from every syllable. "I can handle myself just fine!"

Wishful thinking, or an outright lie, given the state Sice had worked herself into over the past few weeks. 

Seven's eyes narrowed. "Then why don't you?"

"You think I enjoy this?" Sice demanded, the words exploding angry and hoarse as she shoved Seven back again, harder this time. The snarl on her lips was fitful though, inconsistent, _conflicted,_ and after a moment she turned her gaze aside from Seven's. "You think I'd use this bullshit gift, if I knew I could give the empire the finger any other way?" 

Seven tilted her head, suddenly frowning. What in the world did that mean? Sice's abilities were unusual, yes, but was she having doubts? That... didn't seem to check out. Sice had always shouldered malice with a shrug. As she'd put it, she just gathered up the enemy's own hatred to "ram it right nback down their throats". 

But for the tension Seven had always helped dispel, her abilities had never bothered her. 

"What are you saying?" Seven pressed, tugging on the tie of Sice's crimson mantle, and she felt a sharp, unhappy exhale, the feel of it warm on her skin. 

"That I don't know what I'm doing! Hell, I don't even trust that you'd find the balls to man up and say no, if you didn't..." Sice hesitated, her expression one of self-loathing. " _Enjoy_ it."

Seven froze, breath sticking in her throat, and for a long moment, all she could think to ask was, "Sice?"

Sice's expression flickered, growing closed and hostile in the space of an instant. She pried at Seven's hand at where it was still twisted in her mantle, her touch too forceful, lacking the surety that had become so familiar. 

Seven felt numb, her grasp on Sice's mantle unrelenting. She didn't really believe...?

"You know what? Whatever. I'm done," Sice forced out, her voice tight and furious. "It's not like you get it, it's not like anyone _gets it -"_

Seven didn't hesitate, crossing the distance between them in a breathless rush, pressing her lips hard to Sice's. She refused to hear any further doubts, to deny the reassurance Sice needed so badly. 

Sice's response was immediate, claiming Seven's mouth with teeth and tongue, her scythe evaporating in sparks from her hands as she fisted them in Seven's jacket instead. The sound Sice made in her throat - hungry and desperate, like a prisoner on death row given last minute reprieve - made Seven want nothing more than to prove her dedication, right then, right _there._

She'd missed this, the scrape of Sice's teeth on her lower lip, bruising and demanding. She'd missed _Sice_ , and withdrawing a fraction to regain her breath, but unwilling to release the crimson fabric still twisted in her fingers, Seven pressed her forehead against Sice's.

"If I didn't enjoy it, I wouldn't do this." Impulsive, Seven reached up, tucking some of Sice's unkempt silver bangs behind her ear before pressing a kiss to the shell, flicking her tongue across the lobe. 

In spite of any lingering doubts, Seven felt Sice's hips jerk at the touch of tongue, seeking friction and finding it in the slide of Seven's thigh with a ragged exhale.

Heating and aching from the twisting want the sound stoked in her gut, Seven continued with a swallow, "And I do. I want this too. So hurry up, accept it, and stop wasting our time."

There was a moment of silence before Sice laughed, hoarse and unsteady. 

Seven felt her lean into the heel of her palm then, even as she managed, "You have got to have the most garbage self-preservation instincts Orience has ever seen. You don't run. You don't even turn away when you should." Sice inhaled, hot against the line of Seven's jaw. "It'll get you _killed_."

"Mother won't let that stick," Seven reminded her, taking Sice's concession for what it was, dipping down to taste the skin at the side of Sice's neck. The taste of sweat and magical residue was heady and bitter on her tongue, flooding her sense of smell, cloying her senses. 

It was probably not the best time to be acting on such impulses - Seven was not foolish enough to believe otherwise. Even so, she couldn't bring herself to stop, instead drawing languid circles against a spot on Sice's collarbone with her mouth, leaving a mark just visible above the folds of her mantle.

She felt Sice jolt at the suction, her entire body shuddering with its force and a tiny, strangled sound escaping her lips. 

"But what happens when Mother is no longer here?" Sice's grasp was convulsive on Seven's collar, pulling her closer yet keeping her at bay, strength and weakness, want and denial all in the same conflicted instant. "Do I just - do I just have to -"

Hesitating, Seven's mouth lingered above the fluttering throb of Sice's pulse, waiting for clarification. _Anything._ As the moments stretched on, Sice's lips flattening, her blue gaze cutting off to the side, Seven knew she wasn't going to get any further without a fight. 

Frowning, Seven watched her for a long moment, her touch still lingering on Sice's jaw, in the heavy silver bangs over her eye. Sice's cheeks were flushed hot, her breath rapid and scorching on Seven's skin, and in the dim laboratory lighting, sweat gleamed on her forehead, along her throat. The grasp of her hands were still desperate and merciless, completely disregarding Seven's own comfort, but even so it felt... different than their past encounters. 

Before she could think to press further, Sice kissed her again with a shaky exhale, releasing her iron grasp on Seven's collar and instead reaching for her face. Her hold was too rough, her nails biting deep into Seven's cheek and chin, but the warm slide of tongue against her own evaporated her every protest. Seven groaned into her mouth, fingers twisting in Sice's loose hair, allowing her everything. 

Whatever had changed, the simple fact remained that Sice needed Seven, needed disarming - and Seven needed her too.

Seven pulled back a fraction, letting Sice pursue until she felt her back impact against the glass cabinet once again, allowing her the illusion of control she craved. A small sound worked its way free of her lips when Sice's thigh slipped between her own, and she tipped her head back, giving Sice clear access to her throat, swallowing hard at the drag of teeth at her pulse. 

"You're not going to tell me what's up?" she managed after a moment, her eyes fluttering closed at the attention.

" _No._ " Sice's voice was a vehement exhale at her collarbone, even as she pressed closer, a soft whine escaping her. "Shut up. Don't you dare do this to me now."

Seven's lips quirked in spite of herself, and she tightened her grasp in Sice's hair. "Do what?"

"Just - you know _exactly_ what and I'm not gonna-" Sice cut off, swearing hot beneath her breath, her tongue twisting against the hollow of Seven's throat. "Crystals, I just _need_ -"

"Yeah," Seven breathed without argument. It was enough to feel Sice shiver at the tiny brush of her tongue against the shell of her ear, to feel the plaintive sound of desperation muffled in Seven's hair. 

Did they have time? There was still the sound of shouting in the distance, even with Moglin's voice over the COMM muted for now. Perhaps Jack and Nine had encountered additional resistance somewhere in the facility, but even then... Seven pulled away from Sice with one last kiss, raw with teeth, before smoothly dropping to one knee and setting her hands to Sice's skirt, stomach twisting at the instinctive, stuttering roll of Sice's hips. 

"Were you even paying attention to a word I said before?" Sice demanded, but the fingers she knotted in Seven's hair were sure, belying her protests. "Nine and Jack are _done_. Do you really want those two idiots catching us right in the middle of _you_ -"

"Then we'd better make it quick," Seven cut in, tilting her head back to look up at Sice, just for a moment. 

Sice was still sweating, still as far from okay as she could be, heat and destructive drive built up like toxins in her mind and reflected in her eyes, the suggestion of it veined in red light beneath her skin. 

The moment passed, and Sice finally smiled, an expression so vicious and starving it made Seven shiver. 

"You're crazy," Sice muttered, her voice breathy as she leaned forward against the cabinet, her elbow folded to take her weight and her other hand tugging Seven closer. "I always liked that."

"Good," Seven replied, and she wasted no further time on pretences or comfort, far too aware of the lack of distant gunfire. 

She edged forward, running her hands up the inside of Sice's thighs, across the leather of her knee-high boots and the knit of her stockings, to the soft, warm skin beyond. She didn't linger on it, as much as the idea of drawing marks on that skin with her mouth made her prickle and sweat. Instead, she pushed Sice's skirt up with one hand, grasping the pleats and reaching for Sice's underwear with her other. The thin fabric was soaked beneath her fingertips, and above her, Sice shifted, pulling her closer in silent demand, her knee coming to rest on Seven's shoulder. 

Seven followed willingly, hooking her fingers through Sice's underwear and tugging them down as far as she could manage. She could hear rapid, rasping breath, edged with the very pleading desperation Sice would never willingly voice. Running the pad of her thumb across the smooth skin at the jut of Sice's hips, Seven resettled her knees and leaned in.

The taste filled Seven's mouth, her nose, her every sense at the first touch of her lips and tongue against Sice's slick arousal. She felt Sice shudder at the slightest brush, a tremble that ran bone deep despite the stubborn, rigid knot to her every muscle. 

It was vulnerability, pure and simple. That was the only way Seven could see it. 

Sice, conversely, had always believed herself in control during their encounters, and perhaps to an observer, that might seem true. It had led Sice to the mistaken belief that she was the one with the power, the only one benefiting from their arrangement.

She was wrong, of course. This was exactly where Seven wanted to be at this moment - making Sice melt with just the twist and flick of her tongue or the movement of her fingers, commanding her every _thought_ until the malice singing in her blood faded away and only Seven remained. 

Above her, Sice managed something vague and meaningless, her words trailing off into raw panting before they could truly take form, born more of stubbornness than any need to communicate. The thigh Sice had rested against her neck and cheek had already grown sticky with sweat, trembling that seemed to ratchet tighter with every circle of Seven's tongue against her. 

"Crystals," Seven heard Sice finally breathe, the sound of her swallow loud and unsteady. "You'd better not take all day or I swear..."

Irritable - exactly what did Sice think she was _doing?_ \- Seven didn't bother with a reply, instead exhaling sharply, only satisfied when she felt Sice jerk and twist at the sensation, breath hissing angry and outraged from between her teeth. 

"What did I _say_? Nine is never going to shut the hell up -" Sice cut off, her every word forgotten in a low groan the moment Seven pressed her fingertips against her, before easing two fingers into slick, tense heat. She let them rest there for a moment, all the while drawing deep, wide patterns against Sice's clit with her tongue, the pressure just shy of too much. 

Wordless sounds bubbled up through Sice's lips, unchecked and _loud_ , setting the ache between Seven's own legs to an insistent, unbearable throb. She heard Sice curse beneath her breath, the cabinet door clattering as she released her grasp on it and her rough, fumbling fingers instead sliding against where Seven's still remained inside her. The squeeze of her grasp was almost painful, the dig of her nails sharp and the roll her hips needy, urging Seven's fingers to action again. 

After a moment, Seven obeyed, setting the brutal pace Sice craved, as deep and as fast as she could manage. All she could hear but for her own thundering heartbeat was Sice's low cries, throaty and insistent and _everything_ Seven had been wanting for weeks. It was worth it. It was always worth it -

At the twist of her tongue and the curl of her fingers just so, Seven felt Sice's knees tremble, heard her clutch harder at the glass cabinet, blindly seeking a lifeline. Seven seized Sice's hips, her grasp firm, gentle and steadying but not giving quarter for a moment. Sice's fingers slipped up from where they'd been coaxing Seven's hand along, twisting in her hair and pulling tight, instead riding out whatever pace Seven set for them.

It didn't take long, even for Sice's standards. Without warning, she climaxed with a low, meaningless oath and a shudder, slamming her fist hard into the cabinet door, the force of it rattling the glass. Her breathing was hoarse, desperate and still tinged with _want_ as she slumped, struggling for equilibrium. Seven didn't withdraw, Sice's thigh heavy on her shoulder, only leaning her forehead against the jut of Sice's hipbones. 

She closed her eyes, content to feel the reverberations of Sice's climax as they tremoured through her, pressing kisses to slickened silver hair and trembling thighs. 

For what seemed like an eternity, Sice said nothing. With her own heartbeat slowing, without Sice's pleasure to distract her, Seven could hear the chatter of Jack and Nine over Sice's still-active COMM. They wouldn't have heard any of what had happened - not unless Sice had chosen to have an unwilling audience - but it still remained an unwanted reminder of their duties. 

Reluctant to give reality its dues, Seven instead turned her attention back to Sice and her odd silence, inhaling the scent of her deeply. 

"...are you okay?" Seven ventured, frowning.

After a moment, she heard Sice sigh, heard her wet her lips. Seven hesitated, moving her fingers slowly inside Sice, before withdrawing them entirely. Did Sice still have doubts? 

"Are _we_ okay?" Seven asked again, her jaw firming. When Sice's silence only continued, she tilted her head back, looking up. "Sice?"

Sice's smile was crooked, and maybe, _maybe_ fond in the dim backup lighting of the research facility. All the rage and pent up malice had been lanced, drained away, and for the first time in weeks, Sice seemed... _there._

"Yeah," Sice said, her voice cracking oddly on the word. Jerkily, she reached down, offering Seven hand as she added quietly, "You and me are always good."

Seven didn't know what that meant - not really. As much as she wanted to push for more, to understand what had changed in the dynamic of give and take between them, why questions suddenly lingered where before there had been none... 

Nodding, Seven accepted Sice's hand with a small smile. She could wait.


End file.
